


Fried

by TheDyingSun



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Michael Gibson (mentioned), Shotgunning, drugs are bad m'kay, stoner au, that's literally it - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 20:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6344623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDyingSun/pseuds/TheDyingSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Fuck it,” Tyler says, and flops back onto the ratty couch. The couch is outside, in someone's back yard and the porch light has since gone off. He waves a drunken hand around to trip the motion sensor, but it does nothing, like he doesn't exist. How fitting.</p><p>AKA</p><p>Tyler meets Josh and they shotgun in the dark. That's it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fried

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't know what inspired me to do this. This is in no way condoning the use of any drugs. But hey it's a out there, so enjoy if it's your thing :)
> 
> Thank you to kittydun for beta-ing and encouraging me to post whatever this is. <3

Tyler doesn't swear. It's not that he never has, it's just that he tries his best not to. Those words have certain power, carry certain emotions with them. They're not meant to be used every day. Tyler is a good kid. Man. Kid. Whatever.

 “Fuck it,” Tyler says, and flops back onto the ratty couch. The couch is outside, in someone's back yard and the porch light has since gone off. He waves a drunken hand around to trip the motion sensor, but it does nothing, like he doesn't exist. How fitting.

Tyler feels like he could remember how he got here if he tried- something about his friend Michael dragging him out to a party, then to different party... and somewhere along the way Tyler ended up here alone, on an old couch in the dark. Tyler doesn't even go to parties, but he'd been going so crazy in his own mind, so sick of pretending for everyone, so sick of trying, that he'd agreed. He'd pledged to get falling-down drunk, and just live out a night being the loser he truly was. He'd laughed, and played beer pong, and rock band, and possibly been felt up by a girl (can't remember if that was a dream or not) and now he's here, somewhere, and his twisted mind has caught up with him.

 “Um,” comes a voice beside him, and Tyler belatedly realizes that there's a guy sitting on the other side of the couch. “You okay man?”

“No,” Tyler snaps, because _fuck it_. He can barely sees this guys face in the dark. Maybe he looks mean. Maybe he'll fight Tyler. Maybe Tyler will lose and end up in the dirt covered in blood and pain and maybe that will be a fraction of what he deserves. “Are _you_ okay?”

“No,” the guy shrugs, and Tyler deflates. His voice is too calm. He's not the kind of person to punch anyone. The guys holds up something in the light, thin and white, and it's not a cigarette. Tyler wishes he still cared enough to be phased by that, considering he's never seen a joint this close before now. “I was just gonna light this if you wanted some.”

“Fuck it,” Tyler says again, and the words feel so good on his tongue. “Yes. Thanks.”

The guy chuckles.

“I'm Josh.” He doesn't hold out a hand to shake though, he just puts the joint in his mouth and flicks his lighter against the tip. A brief flash illuminates Josh's face- it's young like Tyler's, though his eyes are angled, his nose more pronounced, and his skin paler.

Tyler says his own name as nonchalantly as he can, watching curiously as Josh sucks in. The embers that have caught the tip of the joint trail down a quarter of an inch, and the roll begins to burn at a slow, steady pace. Josh exhales a cloud of fragrant smoke, and it billows around them. It's not a bad smell- it's actually kind of nice- but it's something Tyler associates with back alley drug dealers and those kids his friends like to refer to as “brain-fried.”

Well, he could stand to fry his brain a little bit.

Josh hands him the joint, and Tyler eyes it for a moment.

“Uh.”

Josh sits up, and snatches it back.

“Dude have you never done it before?” Tyler glares at him, and makes to take it again. Josh dodges easily.

“No but- I want to.” Josh shakes his head.

“Look if you've never- you don't have to start now. Don't feel pressured.”

“I want to,” Tyler bites, and succeeds in grabbing the joint back. “What do I do?”

Josh stares at him evenly for a moment, before the softness returns to his face.

“Okay dude, relax. You just sort of... breathe it into your lungs. But go slow, like you can burn your throat if you go too fast.”

Tyler goes to fast. He sucks in around the joint, and he feels the smoke siphoning in- but then he feels the burn too late, and he shoves the joint at Josh before he starts coughing. And coughing. _And coughing_.

“Ow,” Tyler whines, about two minutes later. “What the hell.”

Josh is trying not to laugh as he takes a drag himself.

“I mean on the bright side,” he says, puffing more smoke out over Tyler. “You're probably gonna get high as shit from that.”

Josh takes another hit, lips closing over the filter. Tyler doesn't really feel any different- except that his throat hurts now- but he can see Josh's lips clearer now that his eyes have adjusted to the low light, and he's drawn to the way they purse around the joint, the “o” they form when Josh blows the smoke out, and the way they stretch across perfect teeth when Josh laughs at him.

Tyler almost doesn't see joint when Josh holds it in front of his face.

“I'd say you're feeling something,” he laughs. Tyler doesn't really see what's funny, but he takes another drag, more careful this time. He burns himself again; he's definitely gonna have a sore throat in the morning. His coughs turn to wheezes, and Josh lays a sympathetic hand on his back. It's warm against the cool air, against Tyler's back, and it somehow feels like ten hands instead of one. His throat is raw when he gives the joint back, and Josh is giving him a concerned look.

“You're not really grasping the concept of 'slow,'” he jokes, but his eyes are kind. His eyes are nice actually. They're not the deepest brown, like Tyler's, but a warm, sunny shade- and they're darting over Tyler's face like they're searching for something.

“What?” Tyler asks, and whatever bite he had in his voice is gone now. His voice is _wrecked_.

Also he's kinda high.

Josh takes another puff.

“You haven't stopped staring at me.”

Tyler looks away with a snap-turn of his head, anywhere but at Josh. The house suffices. The lights are all on, the music is a dull, distant thud from where they're sitting. It's kind of a cool night, and Tyler wonders if he knows anyone inside. Or if anyone knows that he's out here.

“Sorry- I was drunk before I even got here.”

“It's cool man,” Josh says, and Tyler decides that's an appropriate amount of time to not look at him. “I'm drunk too...” Those eyes gaze over Tyler again, curiously. There's still a whole half of the joint left. Tyler realizes that he's already a little bit out of his mind, and he loves it. Josh's face is the only thing in focus, Josh's words are the only thing he can hear, and he wants it to stay that way.

“Do you know what shotgunning is?” Josh asks, his soft voice tinged with something thicker. Oops, Tyler's staring again. He looks at the house once more, so far away now. He can't even imagine getting up and going inside. It's like a backdrop on a stage, not a real place.

“Probably?” Tyler says, feeling the smile in his voice. He looks back at Josh. “Explain?”

Josh snorts, white teeth emerging again to say hello.

“It's when two people share the smoke by blowing it into each other's mouths. There's a few different ways to do it but uh- you keep burning yourself so maybe it'll be easier for you.”

Josh eyes are raking over his face again, waiting for a response. Tyler's not really sure what to say.

“So you wanna... blow smoke at me?”

Josh chuckles again.

“Basically... we'd just have to get pretty close.”

Pfft. Perhaps Tyler should be a bit more concerned about that, especially with a guy, but he realizes now that only _other_ people have ever really cared about that. _He_ couldn't give to shits. Who was to say what was bad and what wasn't? He totally wanted Josh to blow smoke in his mouth. Hell, he wanted Josh to blow him, period.

Now that was a thought.

“Fuck it,” Tyler says again. “Do it.”

Josh shrugs and shuffles closer on the couch turning to face Tyler fully. Tyler does the same, until their knees are touching. Josh looks good from the front. Tyler leans in.

“Hang on,” Josh says, and puts a hand on Tyler's shoulder to still him. He takes a long, slow drag off the joint, eyes fluttering shut for a moment, chest puffing up. Then he looks back at Tyler and says, “open,” as if he's trying to keep as much smoke in as possible. Tyler obeys, and Josh presses forward until their lips are barely touching, and starts to exhale. The hand on Tyler's shoulder comes up to cup his cheek, holding Tyler in place. Tyler breathes in as Josh breathes out, feels the smoke flowing into his lungs. Josh is right, it's the same effect without the burn, and Tyler likes it. He likes Josh, pressed so close, he likes his eyes and mouth and voice, and Tyler's a good kid but _fuck it_ , he's doing this.

The smoke stream ends and Josh pulls away- though he keeps his eyes locked on Tyler as he takes the next drag, and he keeps the hand on Tyler's cheek.

Tyler manages to flash Josh a quick smile before he descends again, and this time Josh presses right up against Tyler, forming a seal with their lips. Tyler inhales the smokes shakily, eyes closed, not sure what to focus on. He needs to breathe in the smoke but he's also sort of kissing Josh, and _oh,_ Josh's thumb is stroking lightly across his cheek. Josh pulls away to breathe, and Tyler hazily opens his eyes.

“I- I like that better,” he says stupidly. “Burns less.”

“Hmm, I'm glad,” Josh drawls, before bringing the joint back to his lips. He takes another quick puff and presses into Tyler again, and this time all pretense is gone; they're straight-up making out. Josh's free hand curls into Tyler's hair, and there's barely any smoke to breathe in. What there is, is Josh's teeth on his bottom lip, biting lightly, making the world spin. Josh pulls back again, face flushed, breath heavy. The joint is almost gone. Tyler doubts there's enough left for another go, but Josh is persistent.

“It's not the best angle,” he says. “Maybe if you sat in my lap...”

“Maybe if we went to your place,” Tyler counters.

“Well I do have more weed there,” Josh allows.

“Fuck it,” Tyler says. “Let's go.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> .  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> .... :) I haven't smoked in two years why did I write this ahahahaaha..................


End file.
